He glanced up at the sign atop the entrance door, green with the words in gold script is “Heaven’s Eye”, with an image of a simplified eye between the two words, reminding him very much of Yira’s own wide, almond eyes.

  He shook his head furiously and growled.

  As of late his thought kept wandering towards her, and he was determined not to let her get under his skin, no matter how much she tested him.

  The shop keeper’s bell tinkled as he opened the door into the candle scented room of a smell he couldn’t quite place, yet seemed strikingly familiar. The sound of wind chimes clinked from the ceiling despite the lack of moving air. Yira’s mother stood at the counter, fiddling with the buttons of an out of date cash register, popping it open with a ding!

  The woman noticed him and greeted him with a smile. “Welcome! Hello, how are you? You’re looking for my daughter?”

  Taehyung nodded. She had a Chinese accent but her words were clear and sharp. Taehyung thought Yira didn’t particularly resemble her mother much aside from height and figure. Yira’s features were more prominently European, yet the strong Asian framework of her face made it undeniable her lineage.

  She pointed to the other end of the store. “Yira’s over there.”

  He turned to see Yira standing in front of a low cabinet with her hand on the top next to a neat, new row of freshly lit candles. She held a single matchstick to her pink lips, brought them together in a gentle “o” form, and blew. He felt his temperature rise in his neck but he accounted it to the heat of the room.

  He nodded thanks to her mother and hurried over, pulling hangings out of his way as they grazed his head.out of his way as they grazed his head.

  “A little late in the day isn’t it?” she asked, her eyes on the ghostly wisps of smoke leaving her burnt matchstick.

  “I had things to do,” he grumbled.

  “Hold this,” she said, dropping the matchstick into his front pocket and walking off before Taeyhung could object.

  A customer behind a shelf stacked with bottles of unusual remedies stared at Ira as she walked across the room, one foot in front of the other. Yra carried herself with an impressive presence, although more subtle in comparison to others.

  Taehyung however was far from graceful. He stormed across the room to catch up, his footsteps stomping on the wood.

  “So what brings you here?” she asked, her face blank but her tone almost teasing. "I’m afraid it’s a bit late for me to give you a fortune.”

  “Can’t you ever just give me an answer without the fortune telling voodoo and the thirty dollars?” he questioned. At this point, although he loathed admitting it, he was somewhat convinced of Yira’s “ability” although he still sought confirmation.

  “I wonder if I can?” she said.

  “It’s your choice!” he pointed out, sounding irked.

  Heavy, but uneven footsteps hobbled down the stairs in the corner of the store, and a little old Asian lady stepped in between the two of them. She was tiny, the top of her head barely reaching Taehyung’s chest. Her greying hair pulled back in a bun and one side of her face drooping lower than the other from old age.

  Yira pointed her hand towards her, stepped back, and smiled. “Taehyung, this is my grandmother.”

  Taehyung immediately stiffened and dropped to his most polite tone of voice. “Hello ma’am.”

  Yira said something to her in Chinese and the woman squinted at his face, scrutinizing his every feature before shouting loudly in a voice he didn’t expect from someone so small and taking off back up the stairs.

  “Uh, what just happened?” he asked.

  “To translate for you roughly,” she began. “She says you are too pale, that your body is unbalanced. An excess of heat energy.”

  “Why?”

  She pointed up the narrow wooden steps, too tall to see the top. “Our upper floor is my grandma’s traditional Chinese medicine shop. Feel free to go there if you want, but I doubt you’d enjoy the smell.”

  Even from the bottom he could smell the potent, abrasive scent of dried herbs wafting down. The look on his face made it clear of where he wished to stay.

  “I’m afraid my grandmother is a little hard of hearing, so forgive her loud voice,” said Yira.

  Within two minutes, the old lady emerged once again, carrying a white cup of bubbling, black broth with the powerful smell of gasoline fumes. She pushed it into his hands and yelled.

  Taehyung looked at the cup with eyes filled with horror, but having been strictly raised to respect his elders, he desperately tried no to show it for fear of offending the old woman.

  “Take it, Taehyung,” said Yira, her face impassive but her voice aggravatingly teasing. “My grandmother made the effort to help your health after all.”

  He shot her a cold glare but he smiled at the lady, before steeling himself, halting his breathing, and downing the cup in one gulp. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to supress the urge to gag, as although the mixture was surprisingly sweet, the smell was truly vile.

  “T-thanks,” he managed to cough out.

  Her grandmother seemed satisfied and retreated back upstairs as Taehyung continued gagging under Yira’s judging gaze.

  Yira’s mother came over and interjected herself between them. “Yira!” she said. “Since we’re about to close soon, why don’t we invite your friend here over to dinner!”

  Taehyung was surprised, not only to be called a friend but to be invited by a family he barely knew. “Oh, no, you really don’t have to do that Mrs-”

  “I don’t mind,” Yira told her mother in Mandarin. “But what do you have in mind?”

  “I just want your friend to get to know the family!” her mother replied. “Don’t you think he’d make a good son in law? He has such a good face, and he’s so tall.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself mama.”

  “Um, what are you saying?” he asked.

  “Whether you come or not is your choice,” she said.

  “Oh well…” He thought about it for a moment, and he had to admit that he was intensely curious to Yira’s home life, someone so solitary seemed like they were born alone and lived alone. “Sure, thank you for your offer.”

  Her mother grinned and skipped over to the counter. “Great! I’ll call your dad!”

  Before any of them could say another word, the room fell silent, and a heavy weight seemed to push down on Taehyung's chest. He felt a prickling feeling on the back of his neck and he became very aware that someone was looking at him from behind with intense eyes.

  Slowly, he turned around and saw a lone, figure standing at the centre of the room, a walking stick in one hand, and the other gripping on her shawl. She was an ancient woman, heavy set with bronze wrinkled skin, yet her hair was still raven black. It was the old woman he had seen sitting on the bench outside of the shop.

  She raised a sharp, pointed finger at him and with her lips tight, said something in a low, forced voice which struck him as odd, as he recognised it as being Italian.

  “Taehyung, this is my other grandmother,” Yira introduced, although her voice had become soft and cold, her eyes growing dark and serious.

  “Il Malocchio,” she said. “Il Malocchio.”

  The back of Taehyung’s neck grew cold. Although he could not understand a word she said, her hard, black eyes and menacingly prophetic voice shook him.

  Yira’s mother hurried out from behind the counter, adopting a soothing voice as she whispered for her to sit down, gently nudging her mother in law towards the corner to an old faded sofa. She glanced back to Taehyung and tried to give him an assuring smile which he didn’t buy.

   “W-what was that about?” he asked. “What is Il Malocchio?”

  “Evil eye,” Yira breathed, her eyes clouded over and her arms tightly crossed as she watched grandmother.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s an old superstition,” she explained, dropping her arms and walking towards a display of jewellery hanging from a wall. “Widespread in parts of Europe and West Asia. It is the belief that a person may be intentionally or unintentionally cursed by someone’s glare as a result of envy, jealousy, or just ill will.” She her heel and stopped to face him. “My grandmother believes you are under the curse of the Evil eye.”

  “That can’t be real right?” he asked, although there was uncertainty in his voice. With all he had seen, he couldn’t be certain of much anymore.

  She returned to the shelf and began looking through the items, bracelets and necklaces jingling under her fingertips. “The effects can be ill health, the sudden breaking or breakdown of items or machinery, impotence,”

  Taehyung cringed at the last word.

  “Unease, accidents, fights, and the milk drying out from your cattle,” she finished, spinning around.

  “Cattle?”

  “It’s quite an old belief,” she explained. “But all in all, it’s simply considered a superstition.”

  Taehyung breathed out a sigh of relief, suddenly aware that he had been holding his breath.

  “But my grandmother is aged and experienced,” she continued. “And quite sensitive. This would be the first time she’s behaved like this, so it’s truly up to you what you choose to believe.”

  His brows knotted once again with concern and annoyance at Yira’s ominous tone, but Yira paid him no mind and raised a finger from which a black string necklace dangled, a circular blue gem with a white and black spot in the middle hung from the end.

  “Just in case you’re cautious, I suggest you can wear this,” she said, her tone taking on a sweet, calming tone.

  “And how much are you going to charge me for that?” he frowned.

  She tucked it into his pocket. “Think of it as a gift.”

  Taehyung was a little suspicious and stunned. It was unusual for Yira to do anything for him for free. The necklace looked odd and settled awkwardly in his front pocket, but he had to admit that he felt a slight sense of relief with its presence.

  “If it’s just a superstition, then why do I need it?”

  Yira shrugged. “It’s your choice whether or not to carry it with you,” she said. “But it depends. Would you like to test your luck?”

  It was dark when they arrived at Yira’s home, the moonlight casting the rustic, one storey house in a deep blue. Vines climbed up the brick walls and a neat row of a flowering bush lined under the window by the door.

  Her father greeted them at the door. He was a stocky man of dark skin but strong European features. It was evident where Yira received most of her features from, although her eyes remained unique to her.

  Dinner was warm and uneventful, the family offered him more hospitality than he had expected, save for Yira’s paternal grandmother, who looked at him with a dark, knowing expression the entire night, shaking her head and muttering, as if saying ‘what a shame’.

  When the dinner was over, Taehyung was invited into Yira’s room. Strange patterns and symbols were painted on the walls, and dream catchers and charms hung from the ceiling. Her room very much resembled the store, with the same jewellery and trinkets littered on her shelves and desk. The only modern aspect of the room was a brand new laptop charging on the bed.

  “Looks like you bring your work home with you,” he commented.

  “Well this would be the first time I ever brought back a customer too,” she said, sitting on the bed and crossing her long legs.

  “I don’t recall being a customer.”

  She held up two fingers in what appeared to be a rabbit or victory symbol. “Two times,” she said. “You’ve paid for a fortune two times. By all definitions, you’re already a repeat customer.”

  “Yeah, well I’m never going to pay for another one.”

  She looked at him with her big, almond eyes and the corners of turned up in a smile. “How’s your girlfriend?”

  Taehyung’s eye twitched but he kept his mouth in a straight line. “We’re fine,” he said stubbornly.

  “You want me to give you a fortune on your relationship?” she asked. “I’ll even offer you a discount.”

  “No thank you,” he rejected. “We’re fine means I don’t need your intervention.”

  “But you’re not fine are you?” she said, breathing out her words in a low, almost purr.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  She pulled her legs onto the bed by her ankles; settling herself comfortably on the bed and making Taehyung’s thoughts travel somewhere he had to force to bring back.

  “You said ‘I’.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said ‘I Don’t need your intervention’.” she emphasized. “This is a singular problem to you. It doesn’t include your girlfriend.”

  Taehyung frowned but Yira didn’t care. “You know, I’ve had many customers coming to me with love problems, men and women,” she continued. “Each have such differing complications, but the one thing that remains the same, is that they don’t stop talking about the object of their affections. Long term and short term, they make mention of their other at least once.” She pointed an accusing finger towards his face. “You, have never said her name, even once. What is it?”

  Taehyung was silent, his lips as sealed as a zip lock bag.

  “I think you may have met at a party,” she guessed. “One of those parties thrown by our classmate. What’s his name? Lee Seunghyun isn’t it? She was nice, she was cute, and you, have always been a bit of a er for a pretty face. So on a whim made appealing by underage alcohol, you agreed to go out, and that formed on the base of your relationship.”

  Angry eyes glared at her. He wanted to demand how she knew, yet if he did, he would be confirming everything she just said. So he pushed his lips together and crossed his arms.

  “It doesn’t take psychic ability to guess where things will end up for you,” she said. “All roads lead to a dead end. The choice for you is whether you’ll pick the long way, or the shortcut.”

  “So you’re telling me to just break up with her?” he questioned with a defensive snarl.

  “My suggestion?” she smiled, grabbing a book off her bedside table. “I’d say pick the scenic route. It’s more fun.”

  “Yeah well, I’m going to stay mind your own business,’ he said, looking to the ground. He stood up and grabbed his bag from the ground. “I should get going now.”

  “My dad will walk you outside,” she said, her fingertip and turning a page in her book, showing no interest in offering anymore hospitality.

  Grumbling darkly to himself, he left the room into the dimly lit halls, where he could see Mr. Kwon sitting on the living room sofa, reading a newspaper.

  “Taehyung!” he said, his voice was deep but loud. “Are you going home already?”

  “Yes sir, thank you so much for having me for dinner.”

  “It’s no problem; it’s so nice to have one of Yira’s friends come over. She’s always been such a solitary child; her friends are more than welcome in our house. Do you need someone to drive you home?”

  “No thank you sir, I can get home on my own,” he said politely, nodding his head before waving goodbye. “See you sir, thank you again.”

  The man opened the door for him as a final gesture, before giving his last words of farewell and shutting the door, leaving Taehyung alone on their dark front lawn, the grass a little wet and a cat mewing from under their car.

  He stepped onto the sidewalk. The night was silent and the road empty, but out of habit, he checked both sides of the road before stepping on, but suddenly, he felt his senses slow and grow dull, as if he were suddenly encased in a bubble, and from behind, he could hear the shout of Yira’s voice, yelling his name.

  “Kim Taehyung!”

  The roar of an engine sounded in his ear and quaked his footing, and he stumbled backward into the concrete as the striped blur of a motorcyclist, her face hidden by a helmet as black as night, dashed in front of his, the wheels grazing the tip of his shoes, and the force of its speed blowing back his hair.

  And like an animation frame, she was gone. He was alone again on the quiet, empty street. The cat purred contently under the car.

  His heart raced, but his mind was suspended. He turned back to Ira’s house, but the lights were off, not even a silhouette in the windows.